These Small Hours
by coveredinbees14
Summary: Work in Progress (did not realize deleting chapters would make an old story pop to the top - please ignore). Re-write. Ch. 2 is new.
1. Beginnings

Author's Note: OK, so I should explain. I have decided to re-write this particular story and include a series of drabbles that deal with the 'beginnings' of these two characters before ILY. The writing style is different and I may end up deleting them. I have a plan to add on to these as I go. I have had requests about the beginning of Tay and Spot's relationship and this is what I have...for the moment.

Read, enjoy, have fun...or skip them entirely...it's up to you wonderful people to decide :-) Thanks!

* * *

_Anna is young and simple and sweet when Spot first sees her. He knows she won't last long. Every corner is already marked and she hasn't learned how to push and fight and bribe. That first day he watches her he can tell she is tired. Her voice is hoarse and the few papers she has left weigh heavily at her side. But she doesn't give in. It's almost admirable._

_The blood and gore doesn't seem to bother her. Every article trying to outdo the last. Severed limbs. Missing persons. The shores of the East River red with blood. It doesn't seem to faze her at all. He begins to notice how certain customers seek her out, as though they know she'll keep their secret. They too want to know the horror that is the "Murder of the Century" but they don't want their news from the nearest loud-mouth kid with no discretion. Anna looks like the kind of street kid who won't cheat you. Who won't lie about a headline or take off with a few extra pennies after pretending to not have change for a dime._

_It doesn't take him long to figure out that she's hiding more than he thinks._

_He isn't that surprised to find out she is not all sweetness and light. And she doesn't take kindly to his discovery of her secret. Her tongue is sharp and edges he once thought were dull threaten to cut him to the core._

_Spot is an expert at the game but it takes longer than he expects. Her brother's shadow is an easy hiding place and Anna retreats back to it whenever she fears Spot is getting too close._

_While he waits other girls offer to keep him occupied. They are loud and brash and have few expectations beyond having a good time and a ending up as just another story to add to his growing reputation._

It was quite possibly the worst time of year to leave home. "The Murder of the Century" still had people on edge and since the first body parts had washed up along their shore Brooklyn was a particularly somber place to live at the moment. Just the same, Anna had decided that the chaotic situation would make the perfect time to run away. It had taken her months to realize that Kieran was not coming back. On his sixteenth birthday Kieran had decided to fend for himself but Anna had not been able to accept being left behind. The first few times she'd followed him she'd simply bought a paper from him and left without arguing. But it was going to be different this time; she was determined not to leave his side.

A slight breeze managed to make it up the street but it didn't help the sweltering temperature even at that early hour of the morning. Anna had spent her last dime bribing a newsie to bring her to this corner where the kid had sworn a boy matching Kieran's description bought his papers. As each newsie took off for the morning Anna finally saw Kieran walking up alongside a shorter boy who had a cigar tucked into the corner of his mouth.

When their eyes finally met Kieran passed a coin to the dark-haired boy and made his way toward Anna.

"Do you ever listen to a word I say?" Kieran asked with a grin.

"You never say nothin' worth listening to," Anna countered. She slid the burlap sack at her feet behind her but Kieran caught the motion and rolled his eyes.

"We ain't talking about this again," he explained. "Go home, Anna."

"No," she protested.

"Don't make me drag you back home," Kieran sighed.

Anna planted her feet and stuck her jaw out defiantly. "Go ahead."

Minutes ticked by as the siblings stared at one another, neither willing to give in. Anna decided to play the only card she had.

"You'd have more money if you let me sell with you," she pointed out. It was common knowledge that her brother was always looking for the next big thing. It was part of the reason he'd left home. Kieran had been caught taking more than his fair share of money that their mother believed should be used to support the whole family.

Kieran glanced back at the crowd of boys buying papers and Anna felt satisfied. He was at least thinking about it. She picked up her few belongings and slung the bag over her shoulder. Kieran took a step toward the boy from earlier who handed him a stack of newspaper. Kieran thumbed through the papers, counting out ten and holding them out toward Anna.

"Go on," he told her as Anna hesitated. "Sell 'em."

"How?" Anna asked. She looked around for a minute. "You want me to sell them here?"

"Up to you," Kieran said simply. "You sell them papes and we'll talk 'bout you staying. Got it?"

Anna swallowed any further protest and silently accepted the papers. She frowned down at the small stack of newspapers, her mind filling with unanswered questions.

It didn't take long before Anna realized that selling newspapers was not as simple as she'd originally thought. Everything her mother had ever told her ran through her head. Girls don't shout. Girls don't pester. How on earth was she supposed to sell newspapers to these people?

By the time the midday sun peaked in the sky Anna was hoarse, exhausted, and stuck with 7 out of the 10 newspaper Kieran had given her. She slipped through the marketplace crowd easily, ignoring the cries of the vendors and customers as she passed by. Selling was more difficult than she had ever imagined and she had found another problem. Nearly every corner was already taken by one newsie or another and Anna was beginning to lose hope that she'd ever make it.

Anna stumbled against a gentleman, causing her to drop her papers. The man glared at Anna and brushed invisible dirt off his clothing as though just touching her had contaminated him. Anna stuck her tongue out and bent to pick up her papers. She was surprised to find another newsie had stopped to help her.

"I don't need your help," Anna told him stubbornly.

The boy straightened his hat, pushing his hair back and revealing a startling pair of blue eyes. For a split-second Anna was struck dumb. He'd only looked at her for a second but in that second was a feeling that both exhilarated and frightened her.

"Thank you," Anna recovered quickly as he handed her small stack of papers over without a word. She counted and found the boy had mistakenly handed her some of his own papers. She held them out to him. "I only had seven."

"You only gonna sell seven papes?"

"Yes," Anna snapped.

The boy let out a low whistle. "Damn you're green. Ain't the worst I ever seen though."

"Thanks a lot," Anna said sarcastically.

"No problem," the boy answered smoothly. He held his hand out. It was rough, stained with ink and covered in what looked like old scars and calluses. "Spot Conlon."

Anna held on to his hand for a moment longer than she should have and dropped her hand back down to her side as she blushed. "I'm Anna."

If Spot noticed her blushing he was polite enough to pretend otherwise. "So, Anna, what's with sellin' seven papes? You ain't even gonna make enough to eat that way."

"It's a long story."

"I got time," Spot told her. She admired the way he could hold a conversation with her and still sell his papers to passing customers. She clearly had a lot to learn.

"It's my brother. He told me I could stay if I sold these papers. 'Cause I ain't going home."

Spot studied her for a moment. "You a runaway?"

"Not exactly." There was a heavy silence but Anna was reluctant to tell her life story to this boy. He was clearly much more experienced and had been on his own for some time. "If I don't sell the papers, then I'm on my own."

"So, the way I see it is you need to sell those papes and I just happen to know how to sell papes."

"You want to help me?" Anna asked, surprised. "What's in it for you?"

Spot gave her an appraising look. "Let's just say I'm a helpful kind of guy."

Anna knew better than to expect help from some strange kid who didn't look like he even knew where his next meal was coming from. Kids like that didn't do things out of the goodness of their hearts.

"Yeah, and how much do you want for your 'help'?" Anna asked knowingly. "'Cause fact is any money I make I already promised to Kier."

"Guess we'll just have to figure out some other kind of payment then," Spot grinned as he took hold of her papers.

Anna hesitated. "I'm…I mean…I'm not that kind of girl."

Spot looked her up and down. "That's pretty clear."

"What do you mean 'that's pretty clear'?" Anna asked in an insulted voice. "I could be, you know."

"You just said you weren't," Spot pointed out.

"I don't like you," Anna said bluntly.

"I get that a lot," Spot answered as he flipped through the pages of the newspapers he held. "Problem is the afternoon edition is already out. That murder has everyone putting out new papes before the first edition is dry. Folks ain't gonna buy these no more."

Anna considered the possibility that it was nothing but a cruel trick. It seemed terribly unlikely that this boy was willing to help her for no reason. Especially since she was a girl and she could only imagine how negatively it might affect his inflated sense of self if he was seen selling with a girl. On the other hand she considered that Kieran may have steered Spot towards her and she at least trusted her brother.

"So what now?" Anna asked, honestly curious.

"Now? We get the afternoon edition," Spot said simply. He turned on his heel and Anna struggled to keep up with his pace as he headed back toward the distribution center.

Anna tried to keep track of the streets and buildings but her head was full of thoughts about this Spot Conlon and what exactly he was expecting from her if it wasn't money. He certainly didn't look any older than she was but he carried himself with a confidence that she couldn't ignore. But it only made her question why he would want to spend time with some new girl who couldn't even sell ten papers.

"Wait," Anna said and grabbed Spot by the sleeve. "I don't buy it. You ain't just helping me for no reason and I ain't got any money, so what gives?"

Spot smiled. "You're smarter than your brother gives you credit for."

"I knew it. I knew Kier sent you," Anna interrupted but Spot put a hand up.

"Look, the way I figure you got two choices. One, you give your brother hell, he figures out you ain't sold any papes, and you end up back home. Or you let me help you, we sell some papes, and you prove to him that you can make it on your own."

"He's gonna know you helped me," Anna argued.

"I have a feeling he won't mind when he sees you come back with money in your pocket," Spot answered. There was a strange look in his eyes that Anna didn't quite understand at the moment but it was gone in a flash.

Spot held his hand out. "Deal?"

Anna hesitated briefly before reaching out and shaking his hand. "Deal."

That was the first time she ended up making a deal with Spot Conlon. It wouldn't be the last.

* * *

Anna held her breath as she watched each precious penny slip from Kieran's fingers into the small money bag. Each one of those pennies would help her earn her freedom. Her brother wasn't the most honest person but she knew that he'd keep his promise to her.

"I only gave you ten papes to sell," Kieran frowned as he counted the money a second time. "Where'd the extra come from?"

"People gave me a few tips 'cause I'm sweet and I'm a girl," Anna answered, smiling. She began plaiting her hair in order to avoid Kieran's suspicious look. Her fingers fought against the web of tangles and her mind drifted to the memory of her older sister helping Anna brush her hair out before bed. The memory probably would have seemed sweeter if Anna hadn't also remembered the feel of her sister's hand as she took her own frustrations out on Anna. She never blamed Bridget for her sour temper. After all, it wasn't like Anna made the slightest effort to make her sister's life any easier.

Kieran took a nickel from the small pile of coins and slid it across the table to Anna.

"What's this for?"

"You're gonna need it to buy a bed upstairs," Kieran explained. "Just sign your name in the book and one of the ladies will show you where to sleep, wash up, all that."

Kieran knotted the top of the coin bag closed and placed it back in his pocket. Anna breathed a sigh of relief. At least that part was over. She concentrated on the plate of food in front of her. It was just a bowl of soup, half a piece of fruit, and some bread but it looked like a feast considering she hadn't eaten since leaving home.

"I met a boy today," Anna volunteered as she turned the apple over in her hand and counted the seeds. There were three. She smiled to herself, thinking about the old wives tale that the number of seeds would tell you the number of children you would someday have.

"Lots of 'em around," Kieran answered. "This boy got a name?"

"Spot Conlon."

"Never heard of him."

"Are you sure?"

"Must be some new kid."

"Oh," Anna's voice faltered when she heard how dismissive Kieran was. She'd always been sensitive to his sudden changes in mood. "Well, he was really nice to me. He helped me figure out which people to sell to, and how to play like I was younger. He even told me about the afternoon editions and how the best place is outside the ferry docks 'cause that's when the workers come home and want to buy a paper to read at home."

"Eat your food, Anna." Kieran's jaw grew tense as he chewed and a dark look came over his face.

Anna attempted to change the subject. "Who was that boy you was with this morning? Is he your selling partner?"

"Racetrack," Kieran told her. "We ain't partners. He sells way out at Sheepshead."

"So you need a partner and I need a place to stay. See, I told you I could help," Anna smiled but it faded when she heard what Kieran said next.

"You need to go home, Anna. This ain't the place for you."

There was something different about Kieran that she couldn't quite put her finger on. At home he had always been the first to tell a joke or pull a prank that he knew would make his siblings laugh. He'd do almost anything to keep their minds off the fact that they were hungry and poor and living six people in one room. But sitting there at that table in a city mission basement Anna understood her brother was deeply troubled about something and she would do her best to help him any way she could.

"Remember, just find one of the girls to show you around," Kieran advised as he and Anna finished their meals.

"Where are you going?" Anna asked. She was not prepared to be left alone and the false bravado she'd used earlier in the day had vanished, leaving her tired and fearful.

"It's girls only. I'm only going down the street to the Lodging House. I'll be back to get you in the morning," Kieran explained as he stood to leave. He turned back and she saw a hint of suspicion in his eyes. "And that boy you met today? He probably ain't gonna be showing up again so don't go getting your hopes up that he's gonna help you."

"Too late," Anna murmured to herself as Kieran left her alone.

* * *

Whew...so many little dribs and drabs running through my brain - hope this doesn't mess up the story. Please feel free to comment and/or review :)


	2. One Day

"He ain't good for you. He ain't good for anyone."

"You said you didn't even know him," Anna mentioned, recalling the conversation she'd had with Kieran the first night she'd met Spot.

"I know enough," Kieran answered gruffly.

Anna had her doubt that anyone, let alone her absent-minded brother, knew anything about Spot Conlon. The only thing Kieran seemed concerned with knowing was the location of each and every dice or poker game in the city. Anna considered it somewhat lucky that Kieran was so caught up in his half-hearted attempt to keep her away from Spot that he hadn't seemed to have noticed that it had been a month and she still had no plans on returning home.

"You have friends," Anna pointed out. "You said the only way to survive was to find a partner, someone to watch my back. So I found Spot, or he found me. And it don't matter anyway, 'cause I like him."

"Anna, don't be stupid," Kieran chided. Anna curled her hands into fists but managed to keep them down by her sides. Kieran had certainly changed but she could tell he was still adamant about playing the role of protective older brother. He had always treated her like that, as though she couldn't handle things. He'd always acted as though she was just some innocent, doe-eyed little mouse who was going to end up hurt, or worse, because of her trusting nature.

"First of all, he ain't done nothing to me-"

"Not yet," Kieran interrupted with a bitter laugh. "You're just the doll he's toying with right now and when he drops you, he'll move on to the next girl. You seen it with your own eyes."

Anna opened her mouth to protest but knew Kieran was at least halfway speaking the truth. Just that morning she'd watched Spot sidle up to one of the girl newsies, carousing and laughing without even glancing in her direction. But what did she care? It wasn't like she was interested in him or vice-versa. They were just friends. Of course telling herself that didn't help quell the heated feeling of jealousy that had swept over her entire body as she watched him flirting with another girl.

"You jealous or something, Kier?" Anna asked as she swallowed a lump in her throat.

"I ain't the one who is jealous," Kieran answered with a knowing look.

"This ain't fair. I ain't said nothing about your partner," Ann argued heatedly.

"I told you, we ain't partners," Kieran answered. Anna's frown deepened as she dismissed Kieran's argument. The things she could have told him about Racetrack Higgins. Well, they were all things she had been told by Spt. But the fact remained that Racetrack seemed to have no problem helping her brother further along into debt. At first, she had liked the older Italian boy with his charming smiles and quick wit but Spot had been quick to point out Racetrack's flaws as a friend and partner. It was difficult to know who to believe and Anna felt torn between her brother and Spot. Trying to please everyone was during out to be more difficult than expected.

"Well, Spot says-"

"Don't start with that shit."

Anna drew back, startled by the forceful way Kieran spoke to her. His eyes grew clouded with anger and she regretted bringing Spot's name up. Still, she knew she would not be heeding Kieran's advice and giving up her friendship with Spot.

"I was thinking of changing my name," Anna said brightly, trying to change the subject.

"Oh yeah?" Kieran asked, willing to give the argument a break for the moment.

"Yeah," Anna answered. "I was thinking 'bout what you said and I'm gonna change it to Tay."

"You know no one will know what the hell it means," Kieran grinned.

"Don't care," Anna shrugged. She looked down at the tips of her shoes for a moment. "I just don't feel like Anna anymore."

Kieran studied her face intently until Anna could no longer meet his gaze and looked away. The name change had been his idea but Anna noticed that he'd never taken on a nickname. She wondered if he struggled with giving up one of the last ties to their old life or if he felt the way she did, wanting to become a whole new person, someone who was willing and able to survive on the streets of Brooklyn.

* * *

The smoke curled under the lip of the open window and Tay's eyes began to burn but she was determined to find out what was going on with her brother. A hand shot out of the dark and smothered the high-pitched yelp she let out as she was dragged out of her hiding spot and onto the ground. There was a flurry of limbs as she tried using every dirty trick in the book but still found herself pinned to the ground with her arms caught between herself and the stranger on top of her.

"Quit it," Spot told her as she began to struggle against him again. She recognized his voice almost instantly but continued fighting to get out from under him.

"Get off of me," Tay countered as she freed one of her hands and shoved against Spot's chest.

"Look, I'm trying to save your skin right now. You got any idea where you are?"

"Brooklyn."

"Funny. Not as funny as you're gonna look if any one of them gets ahold of you."

"My brother is in there," Tay explained. Spot pushed up off the ground and held his hand out, helping Tay to her feet. She straightened her rumpled skirt and tried not to think about the way it had felt to have Spot's body pressed up against her.

"Where you staying?" Spot asked as he began to walk away.

Tay caught him by the sleeve. "Did you not hear me? Kieran is in there and I ain't leaving him."

"Fine, we can stay here and chat 'bout it some more until one of those guys wises up and finds us out here, or we can go get something to eat and find you a place to stay. Your brother can take care of hisself."

Tay's brow furrowed as she thought about his suggestion and there was a sharp pain in her empty stomach as she realized it had been a couple of days since she'd eaten anything more than a few scraps. But helping Kieran was more important than quieting her growling stomach.

"You can't do nothing for him from here," Spot commented as though he'd read her mind. Tay matched Spot's stride as he headed down the street and away from the broken-down building. The sun had gone down hours ago and Tay noticed the way Spot held himself as though he was prepared for a fight. His hands were already half-curled into fists and his eyes flicked from one sight to the next as she followed him past the motley crew of people still out at that time of night.

There was a cool breeze off the water that alerted Tay to the presence of the river and she realized he must have taken her to the waterfront. She knew that outside the Navy Yard was a popular area for newsies to hang out waiting for the next edition but Spot didn't even pause as they passed it. Tay tried not to trip as she struggled to keep up with Spot. She was beginning to think he'd forgotten she was even there when he stopped and pointed to a bit of shelter under one of the piers. It looked like one stiff wind would blow the shelter into the river.

"Kier won't know I'm here," Tay stammered nervously as she twisted her fingers together. Spot muttered something under his breath but she couldn't catch it. She tried to cover for having sounded ungrateful. "You said something about food?."

"Stay here," Spot told her before he disappeared.

Tay looked around for a moment but it was impossible to tell where a safe place was to sit. She felt along the ground and found a place in the sand that seemed to be somewhat dry. As she gazed at the lights of the Manhattan skyline across the water she heard a rat scratching at the shelter and curled her knees up against her chest. She tried to remember the last time she was by herself and came up with nothing. For as long as she could remember there was always a sibling or friend around. To be alone, especially to be alone after dark, was an entirely new experience. Tay wasn't certain she liked it. The dark pressed down on her and every shadow seemed to hold a sinister presence.

"Jeezus, you scare easy," Spot commented as he touched her shoulder and felt her jump.

Tay laughed nervously. "Yeah, I guess so."

Spot dropped a brown-paper wrapped package in her lap. "Ain't much."

"It's great. Thank you," Tay told him as she picked at the wrapper. She didn't know what to think or expect from this situation. Kieran had never left her on her own before. He'd been late to show back up to their corner a couple of times but he always showed up. Tay realized that not only did Kieran not know where she was, but she had no idea how to get back to the mission where she'd been staying.

"Didn't poison it," Spot kidded as Tay left the sandwich sitting untouched in her lap. Tay grinned weakly at the joke and glanced around the small space. It was so far away from the rest of the world. Tay began to feel sorry for him, the realization that Spot was not the type of person to have many friends had occurred to her but seeing where he lived, alone, made her heart ache. She may only be a step above sleeping on the streets but she did have Kieran, and a roof over her head at the city mission.

"So, this is where you stay?" Tay asked in the awkward silence. She swallowed uncomfortably and fidgeted briefly, picking at a bit of invisible dirt on her dress.

"Sometimes," Spot answered and the corner of his mouth turned up into a smirk. "But that ain't really what you want to talk about, is it?"

A whirlwind of questions spun through Tay's mind but she wasn't sure she wanted to address any of them quite yet. She'd heard the rumors, listened to Kieran list the multiple transgressions Spot was capable of, but Tay wasn't quite sure about what she believed or even felt about Spot.

"I changed my name," Tay explained, taking the cowardly way out and going back to the same change of subject she'd used with Kieran.

"I heard," Spot answered and Tay frowned slightly.

"How did you hear? The only person I told was Kier."

Spot didn't answer and Tay didn't repeat the question. In her heart she knew what he was capable of, even if she hadn't seen it yet. It occurred to her that she should have been frightened, or intimidated, or at least put off a bit that Spot seemed to know so much about her, but Tay wasn't ready to face her feelings yet. It was just friendship.

Tay made the mistake of looking over at Spot and for a moment she was trapped. Spot's eyes gleamed with a triumphant light and Tay struggled to quell the feeling of butterflies in her stomach. A small voice stirred within Tay, reminding her of that morning when she'd watched him use those same charms on another girl.

"Kieran won't know where I am," Tay stammered.

"Wouldn't want you to get in any trouble," Spot answered with a wicked grin that told her that he was well aware of how much trouble she was already in. There was a sliver of arrogance in his smile that made her regret the way she had revealed her feelings so openly.

"Thank you. For the food," Tay said politely as she got to her feet. Her head spun as she finally managed to force herself out of the room and back out into the cool night air. There was a tug at her sleeve and she turned to see Spot standing behind her.

"You ain't gotta walk with me," Tay told him. "I know the way."

"Sure, doll."

Tay blinked in surprise as Spot used the same expression Kieran had that morning. She gazed thoughtfully at Spot but there was no sign he'd called her 'doll' on purpose. His face was passive with no hint of the mischievousness he exhibited earlier and Tay felt unsure about his true intentions. A small voice told her to run. Her brain told her that she shouldn't want anything to do with Spot but her heart was drawn to this boy who could read her thoughts and desires without her ever saying a word. Tay took his outstretched hand and allowed him to lead her back out into the streets, to Kieran, to safety. But she knew deep in her heart that it was already far too late for that.

* * *

The bright red color of her cheeks had nothing to do with the cold weather and everything to do with the way Spot looked at her. She couldn't seem to keep calm around him even as he exhibited a stillness that mystified her. She had no doubt he knew exactly what he was doing. After all, she'd heard the rumors. She had listened patiently while her brother enumerated the multiple transgressions Spot Conlon was capable of. Not one concerned her in the slightest. Tay understood that her brother's red-rimmed eyes had more to do with late night poker games than worry over a little sister who was in danger of falling for the one boy she was told to stay far, far away from. She knew what Spot was capable of. At least she thought she knew. She hadn't seen it yet, but it was there. Lying in wait.

Tay felt his hand brush up against hers under the table. The edge of his hand barely touched hers and other than that one small movement Spot didn't give anything away. His skin was cool to the touch but she felt like her body was suddenly filled with white hot sparks. Tay looked down for a long moment, focused on the dried blood that is etched into the lines of his skin. The ink stains and bruises cover older wounds from fights she wasn't witness to. She remembered her mother always believed in superstitions about what a person's hands could tell you.

The room was filled with smoke and noise and Tay's attention was drawn back toward the center of the room where half-grown men were arguing over money. Of course they were arguing over money. What else was there in their small world? She followed her brother there out of concern but she soon realized there was nothing she could do for him.

"Will he be okay?" Tay kept her focus on Kieran and wished she knew how to ease the worry that was clear in his every feature. When there was no answer she turned her face toward Spot and saw the slightest shadow pass over him. His eyes were pieces of ice as he stared across the room at her brother.

"He'll be fine." The words are forced out as though he couldn't believe she was asking him to bother himself about her brother. It had been a struggle just to get Spot to guide her to the rat hole where that night's poker game was being held. Tay had quickly discovered that Spot was a selfish creature and he had little to no sympathy for her sibling. It was Kieran's own fault is what he told her whenever she dared bring the subject up.

There was a familiar pain in her heart as she felt torn between her brother and Spot. Realistically, Tay knew there wasn't much of anything she could do for either one and they certainly weren't going to do anything to help one another.

There is a raucous shout at the table and Tay cranes her neck to try and see what is happening. Spot gently rubbed the tips of her fingers, almost absent-mindedly. Her attention was drawn almost instantly back to him.

"Let's go."

Tay nodded wordlessly and took his hand, allowing him to lead her through the crowd as the sights and sounds of the poker game grew faint behind them.

The snow was falling thickly outside and Tay had to concentrate on her steps to keep from falling on the icy sidewalk. Spot was sure-footed and arrogant. Tay frees her hand from Spot's and is secretly pleased at the surprised look on his face.

"He could be in trouble."

"He ain't." A storm grew and Spot's eyes shone with a light that made Tay's breath catch in her throat. Spot leaned in dangerously close. "But you are."

Tay opened her mouth to protest but Spot pressed his mouth against hers, bruising her lips with the force of his kiss. What should have been sweet and simple was dark and complicated. She knew she should have pushed him away or slapped him or run back home where she would have been safe, but it was far too late for that.

* * *

"What the hell happened to you?"

He couldn't hide the smile that caused the cut on his lip to reopen and the metallic taste of blood filled his mouth. It was worth it to see her standing across from him, her eyes filled with concern as she took in the various cuts and bruises that adorned his face, hands, and arms.

"There's nothing to smile about."

Spot had to swallow the urge to laugh out loud. Meek and mild-mannered. The opposite of anything people had ever said about him. But for her he could play the part. He'd drawn her in and he knew that what he was about to reveal would finally drive a wedge between Tay and her brother. Patience had never been one of his finer qualities, and he could have done without the beating, but it was a necessary sacrifice.

"Remember when we first met and you told me how you didn't like me?" Spot asked.

"Yes."

"Well, neither does your brother."

"Kieran did this?" Tay stammered. Her face was a mix of confusion, anger, and hurt. Spot stepped toward her but she backpedalled away from him. "Why would he…are you okay…I mean, of course you're not okay, look at you."

He should have told her that he'd had worse, that what Kieran did was nothing compared to others, but her rambling was amusing and he wasn't going to stop her from jumping to the wrong conclusion. While she continued muttering to herself Tay rummaged through the few belongings he kept in the attic bedroom. He was grateful that there was a bucket of water handy as it meant she wouldn't have to go downstairs, revealing to the whole lodging house that there was a female present.

Tay wrung out a rag, twisting it between her hands as though she was picturing her brother's neck. Spot allowed her to bring the rag to his lip, wincing more for her sake than in actual pain. He did not normally like to be touched, but with her it was different.

"I can't believe he did this," Tay murmured. Her eyes flickered from one injury to the next before she focused back on his split lip. She dropped the rag back down into the bucket and eyed Spot critically for a moment as though trying to determine if there was anything else to be done for his injuries. She bullied him out of his shirt and did her best to clean the rest of the scrapes and bruises.

"You need a doctor," Tay suggested but Spot just scoffed. "Fine, but it ain't like I've ever done this before. So don't go blaming me when your arm falls off or something. I still can't believe him. Just wait until I see Kier tonight."

"You could stay here instead," Spot suggested while moving his jaw gingerly from side to side.

"I can't…" Tay's voice trailed off as she looked toward the door but she didn't get any closer to leaving. Spot noticed she was biting nervously at her bottom lip. Even though she had witnessed what Kieran was capable of Spot knew she placed that knowledge against what she saw as him acting like a protective older brother. A familiar mix of irritation and slight desperation built up as Spot tried to come up with a way to keep her with him.

"Ain't nurses supposed to take care of their patients?" Spot asked.

"If you need money for a doctor, I can help," Tay offered.

"I don't need your pity." Her eyes widened slightly at the force of his tone and he regretted lashing out. Tay edged slightly closer to the door and his muscles protested as Spot got to his feet and placed his hand on her arm. Her eyes flicked down to where he touched her and roamed around the room, never really settling on any one thing.

"I'm sorry." It was the first time he had apologized to her and there was no trace of the bitterness that would become commonplace later on. That the words flowed so easily scared the hell out of him. Let her go see her brother and listen to him claim the fight was mutual and that Spot was the one who started it. Good luck to her if she can even find him since he's probably up to his neck in a dice game by that time of night.

Spot edged closer until there was so little room between them that he could feel her heartbeat quicken as he brushed her hair back out of her face. It was the closest Tay had ever allowed him to come. Spot swallowed the desire to kiss her and focused on the fact that she was still standing there with him.

"Stay with me. Just stay the night." Spot was not used to asking and the words stuck in his throat. Tay kept her eyes even with his and he could see her wavering between what she knew was right and what she wanted. In the end, Tay stayed the night and Spot discovered that what he'd suspected all along was true, she was in love with him.


	3. Deal with the Devil

Author's Note: Took a bit of the old and mixed it with a little new. Basically that's how my ideas seem to be working so far. So not necessarily a re-write but a series of drabbles that will hopefully help :) Enjoy!

* * *

The blood seeped over the cobblestones toward her feet. The slow trickle mixed with the ice and snow, creating a dark puddle alongside the body lying face down in the alley. Flakes of snow had already begun to fall, covering everything in a thin white blanket.

The small group of boys began to turn and walk away. It was done. No sense in freezing to death or taking the chance of ending up like that poor bastard laying there. Money would be exchanged later, payment for those who had the foresight to bet on the scrawny 14 year old.

She looked up and saw his clear blue eyes gazing at her steadily. There was no fear or regret or sympathy. It was unnerving to see the look of calm on his face. Brooklyn was his.

"We have to go."

She pulled the patched jacket tighter around her body and recoiled from the sight of blood on his hand as he reached out for her. He crouched to the ground and scooped a handful of fresh snow to scrub at the stain. The air is still and all she can hear is her own heart beating. This can't be it. They can't leave him laying there. It's so cold.

The sound of a bull's whistle pierces the silence and he grabs her arm, pulling her away as she stumbles through the piles of snow. All sense of direction is lost as they skirt behind buildings and through the maze of streets. She feels her coat rip as she scrambles through the broken basement window ahead of him. There is a sting of pain but she ignores it for the moment and follows him into the dark. She knows that tomorrow, when the sun came up, she would lose him. He is Brooklyn now, and there is no going back.

Tay swallows hard as she tries not to think about the pitch black surroundings. The only the faint light comes from the end of Spot's cigarette as he sits smoking in brooding silence.

"Spot?"

"Not now."

"But…"

"Not now, okay?"

"Okay."

He sounds tired and she can feel him trembling ever so slightly. She wants to wrap herself around him and protect him from what he has just done but it is too late and she knows he will resent her for it. There is no place for vulnerability in his new world. She wonders if that will mean that there is also no place for her. She will end up alone now. She tries not to panic as the dark seems to press down on her. Fear creeps up from the back of her mind and she bites down on her tongue to keep from crying out. Just before the tears fall Spot reaches out and grabs her hand, squeezing it tightly. His hands are rough, covered in callouses and old scars but his touch is gentle, reassuring.

"I'm right here."

What can she say? Should she say anything? The silence is heavy and uncomfortable and a thousand different thoughts bounce around but picking the appropriate thing to say or do seems impossible. He's killed someone. Not someone. The leader of Brooklyn. The boy she held responsible for the death of her brother. Tomorrow he will be leader. He is the leader, she corrects herself. He became leader the moment Rook's body hit the ground, face down in the snow and still reeking of the alcohol Tay had practically poured down his throat.

Her eyes are heavy with sleep but her mind will not allow her rest. Peace of mind has been elusive since Spot came to her that freezing cold night and told her that her brother had been killed. She wonders if she will ever sleep again. She leans her head on Spot's shoulder, unsure if he will allow it or if he'll brush her off. He allows it and Tay breathes a little bit easier. Maybe she won't be forced to go it alone after all.

* * *

"You're leaving."

Race turned and saw Tay perched on an empty nail keg behind him, her body folded up as though she was trying to appear as small as possible. There was a resigned look on her face as she watched Race slowly packing the small pile of belongings in front of him into a bag. There wasn't much other than a couple spare shirts, a worn deck of cards, and a harmonica.

"Gotta broaden my horizons, kid," Race answered with a small smile. He tucked the last shirt into the bag and replaced the worn tarp he had used to conceal his few personal items. Anything left in the open was considered fair game in Brooklyn. Which was just another reason he was looking forward to getting out.

"2 to 1 you'll be back," Tay said, picking at the piece of twine she had been using as a replacement bootlace. She rested her chin on her knees and looked at him thoughtfully. Race knew she was still holding out hope that he would stay, that things would go back to normal.

"Don't put money on it," Race joked. The truth was he had no doubt he'd be back, as long as there were poker games to play and horses to bet on he'd never be able to completely sever his ties to Brooklyn. But Race wasn't interested in doing the bidding of some 14 year old boy king with too much ambition. Even if they had been friends once upon a time, he was still set on leaving.

"So you're just turnin' your back on us?" Tay asked. Race was caught off-guard for a moment. It wasn't like her to try and antagonize him. But he quickly sensed Spot's influence in her question. Clearly he had been busy filling her head with his usual nonsense about pride and Brooklyn and all that garbage. Typical.

"You know I ain't," Race answered calmly. "Things change, that's all."

"So he ain't your friend no more?" Tay asked, stubbornly refusing to give up even as Race made it clear he wasn't going to be goaded into reacting.

"You should come with me. It ain't worth it to stick around here."

"I can deal with him," Tay replied easily.

"You're doin' real well with that," Race said in a sarcastic tone, gesturing to the angry looking welts on her right forearm. Tay yanked her shirtsleeves down and buttoned them tightly over her wrists. Race knew better than anyone what kind of volatile relationship Tay had with Spot, but it wasn't something either was willing to talk about.

"You'll come back, right? I was just kidding about the whole odds thing." The vulnerability in her voice surprised him and he turned to see Tay bite nervously at her lower lip.

He reached out and held her hand in his. "Just give it a chance and come with me. It ain't like here. You ain't gotta always fight and people are actually decent. Plus, I promise I'll find you a place away from him."

Race had gone a step too far and he knew it the moment the sadness in Tay's eyes was replaced with resentment. She yanked her hand away from his and hopped down from where she'd been sitting.

"I'm not leaving him," Tay told him forcefully. "You don't understand anything, Racetrack."

"Yeah, I guess I don't understand," Race replied sarcastically. "I mean, you want to spend the rest of your life letting him beat the shit out of you any time he feels like, be my guest."

"Manhattan will suit you. Spot says it's for weak newsies who can't cut it here," Tay scoffed. "By the way he told me to have you go see him, 'fore you go."

She hesitated for a moment before turning and walking out the door, leaving Race standing alone in the empty warehouse. Once upon a time it had served as the waiting room for one of the many ferry services. When the bridge opened the number of ferries dwindled, leaving plenty of places for a bunch of street kids to take over along the abandoned wharfs. Not gonna miss this place, Race thought as he looked around. He slung the bag over his shoulder and headed toward the pier Spot had claimed as his own now that Rook was out of the picture.

* * *

Racetrack Higgins would have loved to knock that infamous smirk right off of Spot Conlon's face but at that moment he needed a favor and although it was galling to sit there across from the younger boy like he was on trial, it was necessary.

"I suppose we should just start letting anyone waltz in and outta here like they own the joint," Spot told him in answer to Race's proposal of being allowed to enter and leave Brooklyn after he took up residence in Manhattan.

"That ain't what I'm saying," Race answered. "I got history here and I worked damn hard for Sheepshead. I deserve to keep it."

Things were getting out of hand and Race felt his patience slipping as Spot lit a cigarette and took a drag, exhaling slowly as he appeared to be contemplating whether to soak Race right there, or discuss the notion further.

"Let's say I agree to this little idea," Spot replied. "What exactly do I get in return for letting you keep Sheepshead? I mean, it's gotta be worth a hell of a lot if you're willing to come down here and beg for it."

The word 'beg' drove Race right over the edge and he glared at Spot for a long moment before he laid his final card on the table.

"You let me have Sheepshead and I won't take Tay from you." It came out all in one breath and Race thought for a brief second that Spot was going to kill him right there. The malice in Spot's eyes darkened and the smirk was gone, leaving Race to recall just why Spot was one of the most feared newsies in New York. But Race knew much more than either Spot or Tay appeared willing to give him credit for. He had been there that day when Tay had stepped off that ferry and returned home after six months in the Refuge. Race hadn't meant to be there but he had needed to make sure that Kieran had sobered up enough to actually make it to the harbor to greet his sister. After all, Race had been the one who'd not only witnessed but certainly helped Kieran buy his way into any number of card and dice games so he felt responsible for getting Kieran cleaned up and presentable looking. Race had been there to witness the reunion between brother and sister but he also noticed something else, something that seemed to escape the attention of both Tay and Kieran. Spot had stood apart from the two, his eyes focused strictly on Tay and Race couldn't have possibly missed the look of longing on his face. It was gone in a flash but not before Race had tucked away that little nugget of information and made plans to use it at some point in the future.

"Guess she just forgot to tell me that she was wanting to leave," Spot said smoothly. "I'll have to have a little chat with her about that later."

"That ain't what I meant," Race replied, feeling his stomach tighten.

"Take Sheepshead," Spot offered as he got to his feet. "It's what you wanted, right? I'll be sure to let Tay know you wanted me to tell her goodbye for you," Spot smirked. "Have fun in Manhattan, Higgins."


	4. The Monster

Author's Note: So this chapter is basically the events before, during, and after Below Your Feet but I wanted to put it here because...well, it doesn't feel like a second chapter to BYF and it fits in this little world, I think. Anyway, hope you enjoy it and I'm still working on this whole story so please bear with me (I do apologize for a story this old popping up to the top).

Thank you for reading and enjoy!

* * *

The sound of the horse hooves pounding over the grass was slightly exhilarating. Tay had to admit that at least. But the roar of the crowd and the feeling of that many bodies pressing in around her made her anxious. As the horses crossed the finish line Tay stepped to the back and chewed meditatively on a piece of licorice as she watched Race rip his betting slips in half and toss them to the ground in frustration. With a parting dirty look at the shivering horses Race turned back to the bench behind him and picked up his leftover papers. She didn't know exactly how much he'd just lost but his furrowed brow told her it was likely more than he could afford.

"How's it, Race?" Tay asked and held the paper bag of candy out to him as a peace offering.

Race wrinkled his nose slightly. "That your dinner?"

"What's wrong with it?"

"No offense, kid, but I'd rather have somethin' a little more hearty." He stuck the last few papers under his arm.

"Good luck with that seein' how your nag finished last," Tay answered breezily. Race's look turned sour. She pretended to search for another piece of licorice to avoid smiling. The brief feeling of amusement died as Race headed for the exit. "You leavin' already?"

"Gotta get back 'fore the old man locks up," Race said back over his shoulder.

Tay twisted the paper bag shut and broke into a half-jog to catch up with him. "You can't walk all that way on an empty stomach. I'll buy."

Race stopped short and studied Tay for a moment as she tried to pass off an easy grin. "All right, kid."

He steered her down the street to a cramped little restaurant where he appeared to be a regular customer as several other customers shouted out a greeting on the way in. Tay waved off the waiter after Race had given his order.

"You ain't hungry?" Race asked and frowned when Tay shook her head. "When's the last time you ate a real meal?"

"Aw, Race, you worried 'bout me?" Tay asked mockingly.

Race shrugged and settled back into his seat, eyeing her critically. "You look like shit."

"Always a gentleman," Tay told him. "You could just say thank you."

"Yeah, yeah. I guess I ain't supposed to ask where you got the money? Or why you decided to show up today when we ain't seen one another in months?"

Tay crossed her arms. "I can't spend time with an old friend?"

Race raised an eyebrow. "Same old friend that told me to go to hell?"

"You deserved it," Tay kidded.

Race put one hand to his heart in a mocking gesture. "I'm hurt."

Tay tried not to return his grin and failed. Race would clearly always be the same cocky, swaggering blowhard she'd always known. So very different from Spot. A fact that caused a twinge of sadness as Tay thought about how different life must be outside of Brooklyn. It was good to know that Manhattan suited Race.

"So what's the other guy look like?" Race joked as he gestured to jagged cut on Tay's cheek. She brushed her fingers over it and noticed it wasn't as painful to the touch as it had been a few days before.

"Like Spot," Tay muttered as she stared down at the table. Exhaustion crept through her whole body, right down into her bones. Things with Spot were getting worse and for a minute Tay resented the hell out of the fact that Race's prediction about what Spot would become as Brooklyn's leader had all but come true.

"I'm guessing you don't want to talk about it," Race commented as the waiter placed a plate of food in front of him and left. Tay's mouth watered at the sight of the food but she knew there was only money enough for Race to eat.

"Nothing to say," Tay lied. She wanted so badly to be able to talk to Race, to confide in him the way she once had but those times were over. It was against the rules anyway and she knew it. There were two people who knew what had happened that night and only one of them was sitting at that table.

"All right," Race conceded. "You still want to tell me you can handle him?"

Tay considered the question and figured the only answer she could give would sound foolish to Race. She couldn't handle Spot, but she was the only one who tried. After all, she had created the monster. Looking back she couldn't even remember how the latest fight had started but the memory of Spot's rage raining down around her was vivid and she felt queasy thinking about it.

"You ever been to Saratoga?" Tay asked, quickly changing the subject.

"Yeah, couple of times," Race answered. "Why? You want a change of scenery?"

"Nah, I just saw it in an ad. Sounded nice," Tay smiled. "I heard they got horses there."

"Why else would I go, kid?" Race grinned. "Only places worth going to have horses."

"Sometimes I think about leaving," Tay admitted in a low voice. She didn't elaborate on how she'd practically wallpapered the small room she shared with Spot with advertisements and train schedules and lists of places that weren't Brooklyn.

"Don't we all," Race remarked. "You should hear this new kid, Kelly, go on about how one of these days he's gonna go out west. Thinks Santa Fe is some kind of dream where nothing bad ever happens. I hate to break it to you, kid, but the kind of trouble you got ain't gonna go away no matter how far you run."

"Ain't you the one always telling me I can leave? That I _should _leave?"

"You made a choice, kid. I told you to leave before all this but he's got his hooks in you now and you know it. But, if there's ever a time you decide to take me up on it, I'll do my best to get you outta here."

Tay laid her money on the table and waited for her change from paying the bill while she thought about Race's offer. Race sat back and scraped a match along the bottom of his shoe, using it to light the cigar stub he held between his teeth. He gazed at the small pile of coins the waiter placed on the table.

"You know, kid, we could just see if we might turn a few pennies into a few dimes."

"You'd probably have better luck at home," Tay told him. It felt odd referring to Manhattan as Race's home. By the look of him, he was fitting in just fine on that side of the river.

"C'mon, you tellin' me you wouldn't love to see some of those bums get soaked?" Race asked. He sent her a significant look. "Then you'd be able to put the money back 'fore he even noticed it was missing."

Tay frowned. "It's my money, Racetrack."

"Sure, kid." Sometimes she hated the fact that he was three years older, that he was more experienced, that she was so clearly transparent.

"You pull this shit in Manhattan too? Takin' people's money and then accusin' _them_ of stealing?"

"Keep your shirt on, I was just kiddin' around." Race held the coins out to her.

Tay closed his fingers around the coins. "Have fun, Race."

* * *

Tay was fairly sure Reilly was intent on leaving the imprint of his fingerprints on her arms as he shoved her forward to the table where Spot sat waiting.

"I said I was going so get off!" Tay argued as she tried to twist out of Reilly's hands. Being shoeless meant she couldn't take the chance of kicking him and ending up with a bruised or broken foot so she was left with few alternatives.

Reilly shoved her into a chair before being dismissed and leaving Spot alone with Tay.

"Don't look so pleased with yourself," Tay called out to Reilly as he retreated. "I let you find me, just so you know!"

Spot leaned casually against the back of his char, a bemused look on his face. Tay should have known. It was only a matter of time before he would summon her and now she was there, being forced to show up like some puppet on a string. It made her want to scream. She tried to read his mood but the version of Spot seated across from her was not the same boy who soothed her nightmares or calmed her fears. Of course she knew better than to think that Spot would ever let that side of him show outside their bedroom door.

Tay rested her chin on her knees and stared down at her bare feet. She was sure her list of wrongdoing was fairly long and there was no sense in prolonging the inevitable.

"I'm sorry I took the money. I'll put it back," Tay muttered apathetically.

Spot flicked ash off the end of his cigarette. "I don't like to be ignored, Tay."

"I'm not ignoring you, I'm sitting right here," Tay protested. "I said I was sorry and that I'd give the money back, what more do you want?"

The edges of Spot's mouth curled up slightly. "You can do better than that. Think about it."

"I haven't done anything." Tay tried to follow the events of the day backwards to figure out where she'd gone wrong but considering Spot's prior attitude toward stealing she figured that would have been the major issue he had with her.

Spot reached down next to his chair and pulled up a battered pair of boots that Tay recognized as her own, which she'd given to Race's friend earlier that night. Spot set the pair on the table and went back to smoking his cigarette.

"So that's who you are now? Beating up some innocent kid and then giving me grief for helping him?" Tay asked heatedly.

"I didn't touch him," Spot answered.

"Oh, my mistake," Tay scoffed as she got to her feet. "I guess I meant you let your little band of thugs beat up some innocent kid."

"We're not finished. Sit down," Spot ordered as though there was no possibility of her not doing as she was told. Tay felt torn between sitting back down defeated, or taking her chances and sprinting out the door and into the shadows. She chose the latter and instantly regretted it.

The bruise on her cheek ached dully as Spot pressed her face against the table, holding her in place and twisting her arm back up behind her as Tay squirmed underneath him. A small spark of rebellion burned but there was only one way out and she knew it.

Tay clenched her jaw and spoke through gritted teeth. "I'm sorry."

Spot released her and Tay glared at him while she massaged her tingling wrist. He took a seat across from her and stretched his legs out in front of him. He hadn't even lost his cigarette in the scuffle.

"First, you steal my money and now I get to sit here and listen to you smart mouth me, is that it? That's how you want this to go?" Spot asked. His tone was casual and anyone listening would have thought he was relaxed and calm but Tay knew better.

"I just wanted to help him," Tay mumbled. She tried to bite back the next few words and failed. "Is that against the rules now, too?"

"I told you to stay the hell outta my business," Spot answered.

"So you are in the business of beating up innocent kids," Tay commented without looking at him.

Before Tay could answer or protest or even move, Spot had her by the arm and half-dragged her into the room they shared. The door slammed shut behind them and Tay just stood mutely waiting for whatever would come next.

"I ain't gotta explain myself to you," Spot told her. He stepped closer to her and Tay could feel his warm breath on her neck. She tried to keep still even as a shiver ran down her spine. "What am I gonna do with you, doll?"

_Let me go_, Tay thought for one brief, foolish moment. She knew perfectly well he would rather kill her first, he's told her as much so many times before but she doesn't doubt for a moment that he'd fulfill that promise.

Tay felt his hand run down along her braid and come to rest at the small of her back. She ignored the quickening of her heartbeat and tried to focus on staying one step ahead of him.

"He's fine, by the way," Spot told her. For a second he sounded younger, losing the hard, bitter tone she was used to. But even with the dizzy array of feelings coursing through her she wasn't foolish enough to think he wasn't just as dangerous as before.

"Safe and sound in his bunk," Spot continued. "Even sent his belongings along to him."

"You did that?" Tay faced him, narrowing her eyes to try and determine if he was lying.

"You did," Spot grinned wickedly. "I had nothing to do with it."

He brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes and for a second she saw a glimmer of regret in his eyes as his fingertips gingerly touched the cut on her cheek. Before she could even address it, the look was gone, replaced by the same cold, neutral mask he wore every day.

"Get some sleep," Spot told her as he stepped back away from her. "You're gonna need it. You still owe me the money you lent Race for lunch and it's a long walk to Prospect Park."

"What are you talking about?"

"Didn't I mention that part?" Spot asked with his hand on the door. "Thanks to your little interference today, I decided it'd be best if you sold someplace that maybe ain't so close to the boardwalk."

"There's nothing but pigs and sheep out at Prospect. It's a dead end spot. No one even buys nothing out there."

"Like I said, get some sleep," Spot smirked before he walked out the door without another word, leaving Tay angry and confused. She slammed the door shut after him and fumed for the remainder of the night.

* * *

Whew - that had to be the most confusing scene I've ever written - I don't know why it turned out that way. I just wanted to show a different side to each of them but I'm not sure I succeeded.

Anyway, I also wanted to say that I got to see Newsies (or is it toursies?) last night and it was such a blast! It was my second time so I was able to pay attention to more of the background things and I was sitting pretty close so I caught some of the details I hadn't noticed in the first show (I never saw Jack tie Crutchie's shoe before...it was adorable) and then Romeo carrying on a conversation with Morris as he moves through the line to buy papers - hilarious! It's so cool that they interact with one another even as something else in the scene is going on - awesome show (sorry - there are no other 'fansies' in my family to drone on to, lol!)


	5. Riot (new)

Tay balanced on the edge of the pier as the wind whipped around her, tearing at her hair and pulling it from her braid. Her shoulders slumped forward and she felt a stabbing pain as she wretched into the dark water below. She drew her sleeve across her mouth and remained kneeling, staring down into the river.

"Tay." She jumped slightly at the sound of his voice but didn't turn. She didn't want him to see any evidence of the relief she felt that he hadn't left. The physical pain would subside long before the utter loneliness that consumed her each time he left would. It was pathetic and she knew it. If anyone had ever asked her (no one ever did) she would have never admitted that she needed him to stay. She didn't need anyone's pity, she didn't want it. They could all go to hell.

"You shouldn't be out here." Where should she be? Trapped inside that small, windowless room with him and that unbearable silence? It wasn't the usual silence. It was suffocating, relentless silence that followed the torrent of rage and abuse she'd get swept up in before there was even time to stop or think or do anything that other people claimed they would do in her situation. _Her situation._ What the hell did any of them know about her situation? They didn't know a damn thing about her or him or anything at all for that matter. He'd taken a life, at her behest, and she would never be free of that burden. If that meant swallowing every bit of cruelty and bitterness he doled out, so be it.

There were other nights where things had gone worse. Nights when she would follow him to another rundown pub or dingy whorehouse where she would stand outside, lurking in the shadows, while he exorcised whatever demons he was dealing with. But he hadn't left and even though it killed her to do so she moved to one side so he could sit next to her. Because even as she sat there, bruised and broken, she wanted him there with her. Needed him there. It should have mattered that the bruises and brokenness came at his hands, but she'd fallen for him and those same hands held her heart. Most people talked about his eyes holding all the power but for her it was his hands. Lines criss-crossed his palms, stained with ink and dirt and blood (it wasn't hers). She'd study the patterns for as long as his patience allowed but she never came any closer to any answers. She could never seem to discover how hands that were capable of such destruction were also capable of healing. He was a puzzle with any number of broken pieces that never quite matched up. She could never quite make him whole no matter how she tried.

Maybe it had started that night in the basement. That pitch black basement that smelled of refuse and was covered with coal ash so thick that when they reappeared the next morning you could have mistaken them both for bootblacks. Perhaps she had to go further back to that bitter cold night when he'd gone to her to reveal that Kieran was gone. The night she'd lost her last link to her family, her chance to return to any sense of normalcy, her opportunity to live a life not dictated by a circulation bell and a boy king who had stood on the brink of getting everything he ever wanted. But the truth was that it had started before that, during those six months in the Refuge when she'd been given entirely too much time to learn about her own inner demons and see him face his own as well. He was the only person she allowed to see those demons, he was the only person who seemed to understand the unending chaos she struggled to keep contained.

"Look at me." It wasn't a request. His eyes held a light that was unsettling to see. He traced each bruise, each scar as though admiring his own handiwork. Her skin turned to ice every place he touched her. She realized she had been holding her breath and exhaled softly.

"I'm sorry." He wasn't. He was never sorry. She was surprised he didn't choke on the words. But she wouldn't tell him that. Not anymore. A little voice inside told her to run but she ignored it. It was too late. He had slowly, methodically taken everything from her until she no longer knew where she left off and he began. Nothing would change. Tay would continue to give, he would continue to take. She had tried to push him away, physically and emotionally. But there was no point in trying to fight him. She had given him too much, sacrificing everything for some mistaken belief that he could love anyone.

"Don't," Tay whispered as she turned her face away, angry at herself for letting him in. Again. She felt dizzy as the memories of whispered promises that were never meant to be kept bubbled to the surface. No matter how she tried, she could not keep him from reaching her. And he knew it. She had learned long ago he had infinite patience when it came to getting what he wanted. She had never been meant to win anyway. The game was rigged and had been from the very moment he had decided that what he wanted was her. A flood of words sits on the tip of her tongue but she bit them back. She wanted to scream at him, curse him, strike at him until she finally collapsed, limp with exhaustion and having spent every ounce of anger she kept locked inside. But everything had been said before and nothing had changed. Did she want anything to change? Panic rose in the back of her mind as she pictured what would happen to him. She would lose him and everything she'd ever known would go right out the door with him.

The echoes of violence began to fade and she caught herself leaning up against him, her head dropping down onto his shoulder as he studied the horizon and kept his thoughts to himself. It had always been his way. Her world was small and there were places for him that simply didn't exist for her. She concentrated on the cuff of his shirt where a small tear was the only evidence of her fighting back. He held out his hand and she took it without thinking. The bruised places on her body protested as she got to her feet and she felt her stomach roil but managed to keep from vomiting again. A chill in the air left her trembling slightly as Spot strode along in front of her, giving nothing away per usual. She was exhausted and her heart felt heavy in her chest and she followed along silently, vowing to herself that the next time would be different.


	6. Cold Arms

Author's Note: I don't own Newsies.

Life has been very stressful lately and for some reason writing deep, dark angsty stuff makes me less stressed. So there's this little drabble as a result - one of these days I'm going to write something cute and fluffy - maybe ;) Anyway, thank you for reading, sorry this old thing popped to the top. Enjoy and thank you!

* * *

Tay watched in silence as Spot beat his knuckles against the wall, blow after blow until the blood ran down between his fingers and dripped down onto the ground. All she could think was how it was better that he took it out on the wall than on her. Of course he never meant to do it. It was just a mistake. She got in the way. She said the wrong thing. She broke the rules. Each excuse was beginning to wear thin but still she stayed by his side.

The brick was stained bright red when he finally stopped, let his hands drop down to his sides and she cringed at the sight of the open wounds. The instinct to protect, to care for him caused her to mistakenly reach out to touch him.

"Don't."

His voice was low but the threat behind it was loud and clear. Tay let her hands fall back to her sides and waited. There had been so many times when she had ignored his warnings. The times when she had willingly reached out knowing the result would painful.

"How long?"

_Seven weeks. _Had it really been that long? Despite the fact that every day she sold newspapers with the date printed in black and white, Tay had always struggled to keep track of time. The truth was she didn't know. The situation she found herself in was entirely new and so unfamiliar that she had been forced to confide in one of the girls in the neighborhood. Of course, that had been just another failure as she had wasted a week's pay thinking the girl would keep her secret.

"Answer me."

Tay bit at a hangnail, feeling the skin rip and relishing the slight sting of pain. She stared past him at the collection of debris caught up in the last few piles of snow and ice in the alley. Spot stepped into her line of vision as she concentrated on the refuse, trying to ignore the way her heart beat faster when he moved closer.

Her eyes traveled from the bits of rotten food and scraps of paper down to his hands and then up to his face as Spot waited, stone faced, for her to answer his question.

"I'm not sure," Tay finally told him in a voice much weaker than she had intended. Her throat was dry and she swallowed thickly, trying to push down the feeling of butterflies in her stomach. Dealing with him had never been easy and as he glared at her she realized his eyes were colder than she'd seen in a long time.

"Did you think I wouldn't find out?"

Realistically, she shouldn't have been surprised. It was Brooklyn and nothing happened there that Spot Conlon didn't know about. He'd turned up that morning, seething with rage, and Tay understood without his saying a word that he'd found out about the pregnancy. Of course it had been the rumors, the attempt at keeping a secret from him that was the true source of his anger. She had never tried to keep anything from him before. But the pregnancy was hers and belonged only to her.

"Took you long enough," Tay muttered. "Must be losing your touch."

Tay instinctively took a step back as the words left her mouth but Spot just let out a low mirthless laugh so awful that Tay wished she had just stuck with silence. Her feet felt frozen inside her scuffed boots and she tried to will herself to turn away and leave before she became the victim of any more of his cruelty. But she was terrified of what lay in front of her and even at his most frightening and vicious, Tay still found herself turning toward Spot.

"Can I have the key?" Tay asked with trepidation. Winter had always meant Spot returned to the lodging house while Tay wandered from boarding house, to street, to whatever hole she could find to curl up in and so she assumed he wouldn't care if she returned to the room out near the docks.

"No."

"Why not?" Tay frowned slightly. "You ain't using it and I need someplace to stay. So maybe you could just this once act like a decent human being and care about me."

She reached out for the key that hung around his neck but Spot caught her and wrapped his thin fingers around her wrist, holding her so tightly that she almost cried out. He pulled her toward him and she was suddenly lost, drowning in the memory of their last tryst. The way his hands had felt on her skin, the way he'd left a trail of kisses down her neck, searing her skin until she no longer cared about the longing and emptiness that was always the inevitable result of her giving in to him.

"You think that," he told her, gesturing toward her midsection, "means anything to me?"

Among the many scenarios Tay had mulled over when she thought about Spot discovering she was pregnant she had never made the mistake of picturing him as happy about the situation. It was the fact that he smirked as he said it that drove Tay to make a crucial mistake.

"It don't have to mean nothing to you. It's mine," Tay practically spat. She cringed inwardly, realizing her mistake.

"Everything in this city is _mine_," Spot hissed, inches away from her face. "Especially _you._"

Tears sprung up in her eyes but she blinked hard to keep them from falling. The fact was she couldn't hide her hurt from him, but she could at least try. She refused to let him take control of her, again.

"Not this," Tay said quietly. She repeated herself as though saying it again might convince him of her determination. "This is mine. You ain't gonna have nothing to do with it."

"Oh, Tay," Spot scorned. "Did you really think that I was going to let you keep it?"

Spot's smile was razor-sharp and did nothing to thaw the icy look in his eyes as Tay struggled to comprehend what he was saying.

"I don't understand," Tay said in a faltering voice. Her mind was spinning and she was swallowed up by the flood of emotions that hit her as she heard what Spot told her next.

"It's simple," Spot told her. "You get rid of it now, or I'll take it from you when it's born."

"No," Tay pleaded, forcing the word from her lips in a low breath of air. The tears that she'd managed to keep back came flooding down her cheeks. For a split second she thought she saw Spot reach his hand out but before he could touch her, Tay turned and stormed off down the street.

It wasn't until she was halfway across the bridge that she realized two things; one, she'd never been that far from Brooklyn before and two, she had no place to go.

* * *

It was bound to happen. What Spot hadn't expected was the chaos that had broken open inside him when he had his suspicions about Tay's increasingly erratic behavior confirmed. For days he had watched her struggle, silently and alone, until she finally gave in and mistakenly trusted one of the girls to verify what Spot already knew. At first he thought she might have come to him but he had underestimated her.

He should have sent every boy after her with orders to drag her back, kicking and screaming if need be, but he couldn't. To have anyone sent after her would mean he may as well admit he'd lost control and that she'd left without his permission. It also meant that when she returned, he'd be forced to deal with the situation in a way that would only cause more damage and he knew what he was about to force her to do would be damaging enough.

Spot left the warmth of the lodging house behind without a word. He didn't owe any of them an explanation and no one dared ask for one. He had planned on giving Tay at least a week before he would show her there was no place he couldn't reach but she'd managed to surprise him by running all the way to Manhattan. Of course there was only one person in that borough she'd bother going to, but he'd never expected her to actually leave Brooklyn. Tay had always been terrified of heights and he knew that only her blind desperation to get away from him would have driven her to cross the bridge into Manhattan.

A gust of cold wind cut through his clothes and Spot pulled the threadbare coat he wore tighter around his body as he neared the opposite side of the bridge. Leaving Brooklyn was always unpleasant as he much preferred to be in his city, surrounded by those he trusted and understood versus the Manhattan crew. The proclivity toward violence was certainly less among the Manhattan newsies but that was a source of bemusement for Spot as he saw it as nothing more than a show of weakness.

Spot's fingertips were numb and he was in an even deeper foul mood by the time he managed to discover Racetrack eating dinner at Tibby's. Spot stood out on the dark street for a moment, the snow swirling around his feet as he surveyed the warmly lit interior and tried to organize his thoughts.

A slight sound from the dark recess of the alley drew his attention and he knew without seeing her that Tay was there. He'd been the one who'd taught her how to disappear in the first place but she'd never been able to hide from him. It was uncanny the way he could sense her presence no matter how she tried to avoid him. She stepped out into the streetlight and he struggled to contain the almost euphoric sense of relief he felt at seeing her again.

"He doesn't know I'm here," Tay explained, nodding back over her shoulder at the door of the restaurant. She turned toward Spot with a sharp look. "So leave him outta this."

"I see you're the one giving orders here," Spot answered sarcastically.

Tay shivered as another icy blast of air swept by and without thinking Spot pulled his gloves off and handed them out to her. Tay reached out hesitantly and accepted the offer, sliding her small hands into the worn material as Spot stuffed his hands into his jacket irritably. What the hell did he care if she froze to death? It'd make his like a hell of a lot easier, he knew that much.

"Thank you," Tay told him softly.

"Let's go then," Spot replied as he turned on his heel. Tay put her hand out and touched him on the elbow, causing him to turn back to where she stood. Even through the layers of material he wore he would have sworn he could feel the heat burning under his skin where her hand rested.

"I'm not going back with you." Even as she said it Tay bit at her bottom lip, a tell that Spot had long since learned meant she was wavering between what she wanted and what she needed.

Spot resisted the urge to grab her by the hand and forcibly drag her back to Brooklyn but he decided to at least appear willing to hear her out first.

"So, if you're staying here, then why's it taken you three days to even try asking Race to help you?"

"I don't need Race's help," Tay claimed. "I found my own place to stay. They have a lodging house for girls here."

"They know you're knocked up?" Spot asked casually. "Or are you hoping they just ain't gonna notice?"

"By that time I'll have enough to get my own place," Tay countered. She twisted the gloves around on her fingers, rubbing at the worn material nervously. Spot was struck by how young she looked even though they were the exact same age. While he had chosen to steel himself against their way of life, Tay had always held out hope that things would change, that they could both somehow escape to a better way of life.

The draw of a family to care for or be cared for by was always something that Tay had yearned for since the very first moment Spot had met her. She'd never exactly revealed what had driven her to run away from her own family but he had always known it was something she'd deeply regretted, especially after her brother Kieran had been killed.

"Do you know what they do with girls like you?" Spot asked. "All they gotta do is get word to the nearest bull and you'll be back in the Refuge, or worse."

Tay's already pale face blanched to the point even her lips were colorless as Spot mentioned the Refuge and he felt a sliver of guilt at bringing that particular memory back to the surface. He needed her to understand what was at stake. She was too young, too naïve, with no friends or family to lean on. No one to teach her how to be a mother or to take care of her if, god forbid, something happened. That he could lose her wasn't even a possibility, he wouldn't allow it.

"Will you let me—" Tay stumbled over the words and Spot knew what she was asking even if she couldn't bring herself to say it.

"No." Spot pushed his hands further into his pockets, relishing the way his bruised knuckles ached as he balled his fists up tighter. He'd known his answer would hurt Tay, but it wasn't the same kind of pain he was used to inflicting on her.

"I want to keep it," Tay sighed with her eyes turned down toward the street.

"Do you not understand what's gonna happen? You ain't keeping it, no matter what. The only thing they's gonna do is toss you in jail 'til you have it and then sell it off to some high society family or ship it out to the middle of nowhere to some farm. So you keeping it? That ain't a choice."

"I need more time," Tay pleaded as the wind whipped her hair around her face. He could see the tears shining brightly in her eyes but the sight didn't move him in the slightest.

"I gave you plenty of time," Spot told her. If only she had understood how long he had known before that sallow-faced girl Tay had put her faith in smugly revealed what Spot had already pieced together. It was the fact that she'd tried to keep it from him that drove him to hurt her, to cause her pain in the same way that her hiding from him had wounded him.

Tay fidgeted from one foot to the other and Spot could almost see her frantically searching for a way out of the situation other than the solution he was insisting on. Spot was far too skilled and knew Tay far too well for her to have any chance of winning.

"So, let's you and me take a walk," Spot insisted as he reached over to Tay, pushing a stray lock of hair out of her eyes. He ran his fingers down along her cheek and held her chin in his hand, wrapping his other arm around her waist and pulling her close to him. "And if you ever try and leave Brooklyn again, I'll kill you."

* * *

"She won't be hurtin' much longer, there's nothing left. Next time, the price goes up." The midwife gave him a knowing smile. It vanished as Spot glared at her. She quickly pocketed the money it had taken him a week to scrape together and left Spot standing in the hallway. The heavy scent of perfume in the air gave him a headache. Two girls edged past him, their gaudy silk skirts brushing up against his legs. The one winked at him as she passed and he tried to remember if he had spent time with her before.

Spot hesitated for a brief moment before opening the door to the room where he'd left Tay. For the first time that he could remember he was uneasy about what he had done. It was not a feeling he particularly liked. Regret was something foreign and weak. The fact that Tay still managed to get under his skin was infuriating. Her ability to make him feel anything at all only made him want to hurt her more.

Spot pushed the door open and entered the room, his eyes quickly adjusting to the dim light as he shut the door behind him. The room wasn't much to look at, just a nightstand and a plain metal bedstead. Spot noticed the food he'd left her that morning sat untouched but the chipped tea cup had been drained of its contents other than the tea leaves scattered along the bottom. He knew it was an old superstition that had stuck with her long after her mother was nothing more than a memory.

"Gypsy," Spot muttered, hoping it would get a rise of out Tay but she just sat on the edge of the thin mattress, hugging her knees to her chest. It had been a long time since he had seen that amount of pain in her eyes. Her look called to mind the night he'd gone to her to tell her that Kieran had been killed. It had been weeks before Tay had spoken to him again after that night. But that had always been her way of dealing with things. She'd withdraw into herself and stubbornly refuse to speak to him but Spot had learned how to deal with that.

"Quit looking at me like that," Spot told her. "It ain't like you didn't know exactly what was going to happen. Just like with Kieran."

"Stop it," Tay said quietly. It was a low blow and he knew it, but he also knew bringing up her brother was certain to get a reaction out of her. Spot clenched his jaw to keep from smiling with satisfaction at having forced her hand. He knew each and every one of her weaknesses, but the problem was Tay knew every one of his as well.

"Never did like admitting to the part you played in that mess," Spot commented airily. "Always wanting me to do your dirty work and then acting all innocent."

He moved to pick up the bag at Tay's feet but she intervened quickly and shoved the bag under the bed with a challenging look. Spot yanked his cap off, twisted it viciously between his hands and replaced it. Tay remained rooted to the bed, her knuckles were white with the effort of hanging on as he glared at her, his fists clenched at his side.

"Get up."

"I'm not going anywhere with you," Tay answered, speaking more to the floor than to him.

"Don't make me drag you outta here."

"You can try."

Spot made a slight movement toward her and Tay shot to her feet, realizing he was not bluffing. She reached under the bed and lifted the bag up onto her shoulder. It contained a motley collection of items that Tay had always carried as they had meaning, if only to her.

"Let's go," Spot ordered gruffly. He wasn't about to be pulled into her chaos again, even if he was the person who had caused it all.

"How many others are there?"

"What?"

"Other girls that you did this to," Tay explained. She gestured lamely to the room around them as though it would help clarify what she meant.

"Ain't kept count," Spot lied. He knew exactly how many girls he had forced into that situation. One. The one who was standing right in front of him, wearing a dress the color of dirty dishwater. The look of pain and anger in her eyes nearly took his breath away and he felt the familiar uneasiness that came with knowing that Tay saw right past the rough exterior to the boy Spot had been before Brooklyn. He had grown determined to make her understand that boy was gone.

"You think you're special? You're not. There are a hundred girls out there just like you. This is how it goes, Tay. So don't sit there and act like I did anything to you."

"You left me," Tay said carefully. "You left me alone with that horrible woman and she…it was terrible…and you weren't even there. How could you do that to me?"

"I told you, it needed to be done," Spot answered, trying to sound more confident than he felt. He had meant to stay, that's what he told himself. But the smells, the procedure, everything about what he was forcing her to go through drove him from the room. Acting like a coward did not sit well with him.

"No, it didn't," Tay told him in a tired voice. She sat back down on the bed and dropped her head into her hands. Spot had long since learned the gritty truth about what life was like on the streets of Brooklyn but Tay had always been so naïve, clinging to hope like no one he'd ever met. It was what drew him to her and at the same time drove him to shatter her world into pieces.

"Whatever lie you need to tell yourself, doll," Spot answered.

"I'm not the one who lies," Tay shot back.

With one hand Spot grabbed her by the wrist and yanked Tay to her feet, gripping on tightly when he felt her try to pull back away from him. Tay tried in vain to strike at him with her free hand until Spot pulled her in close to his chest and pinned both arms down by her sides.

"You want to talk about the truth, then?" Spot asked, forcing her to look him in the eyes. "Tell me something, doll. Why was you following me that night?"

Tay's cheeks grew flushed as she dropped her eyes and tried to twist away from him. Spot refused to let her go. He tightened his grip on her arms, struggling with his own turmoil and didn't realize he was hurting her until Tay cried out in pain. Still, he barely loosened his grip as he knew if he released her, she'd run. He wasn't in the mood to play that game again.

"You didn't want it anymore than I did, doll. The thing is you can't just admit it to yourself. I mean, that is why you left home in the first place, ain't it? Too many fucking mouths to feed so you decided to just walk right out the door. This wasn't no different."

"Don't do this," Tay pleaded in a low voice.

Spot found himself speechless as he flashed back to three days earlier when he'd brought Tay to that exact room. As he went to open the door Tay had grabbed him by the hand and he turned to see her eyes filled with tears. _Don't do this_. He wasn't sure he'd ever be able to forget that moment or the way she had looked at him.

"It's over," Spot told her. He held Tay tightly by the upper arm and pulled her toward the door. There was a brief moment where he thought she would fight him again but Tay gave in easily and allowed him to force her out the door.


	7. Fear

Author's Note: Well, I meant to write more at Christmas and I did...I just didn't write as much as I wanted and it turned out kind of 'eh'. Basically, the story has split into numerous parts and I'm not even sure if it's worth keeping anymore but oh well. It's an excellent stress reliever! Thank you to any and all readers! I hope you enjoy!

* * *

It was probably the only decent view in Brooklyn. From the hill Spot could see across the tops of the buildings below to the harbor. He could see why Tay would be drawn to such a place. The idea that she preferred to spend time in a graveyard for the company was just too morbid to consider.

He watched her wander from one place to the next, stopping every so often to read the names of the dead. Only those whose families could afford to bribe the church into thinking the dearly departed was a fine, upstanding citizen were buried there. Everyone else ended up in some unmarked grave in a potter's field.

"Dead people don't buy many papes, doll," Spot joked as he approached Tay. She glanced at him but continued on her silent walk. He meandered along behind her until they reached the building that housed the cemetery chapel.

The votives glowed dimly, barely illuminating the statue of Mary in the alcove above. There was no sign of anyone inside and the church was still and quiet. Spot stood at the end of the aisle and watched Tay as she lit one of the candles. He couldn't understand why she wasted her time, stubbornly clinging to a religion that had turned its back on her. In Spot's opinion all you had to do was look around to tell there was no one looking out for them.

"Lighting candles won't change anything," Spot said as Tay finished.

"It might," Tay murmured. Spot followed her into a pew and took a seat next to her. At least they were free of prying eyes and people who were constantly eavesdropping. But Spot had forgotten how much he hated church.

"My ma used to drag me to a place like this every Sunday," Spot admitted. It was one of the few times he felt willing to even mention that he'd once had a family. The rumors about his upbringing were entertaining to say the least and most of the time he was perfectly happy to let people believe whatever they wanted about his family, or lack thereof. He'd never quite understood Tay's fascination with family and her constant desire to belong to one. In the silence Spot rummaged through his shirt pocket until he found a cigarette.

Tay wrinkled her nose. "You can't smoke in here."

Spot gestured to the otherwise empty room before lighting the cigarette and blowing smoke up at the ceiling. "Ain't no one around."

He was slightly startled when Tay took his left hand and examined the newly healed cuts from where he'd split his knuckles open in a fight.

"Shoulda let me take care of that," she mentioned before letting his hand drop onto her lap. She traced her finger over the lines on his palm and Spot didn't bother to pull away. It was rare for Tay to touch him first and he figured her breaking her own unwritten rule must have had to do with whatever had been on her mind the past few weeks. "How much longer do you really think this is gonna last?"

He understood what she was asking. From the moment he had taken over as leader he knew he was on his way out. It happened to each and every street kid. The shipyards and factories were full of kids who had once hawked papers, shined shoes, or otherwise made their living on the streets. Being leader meant there was the added benefit of knowing there was always a next in line just waiting for him to slip up.

"Ain't really thought about it," Spot lied. He expected to hear an argument from Tay as she knew how much time he had spent contemplating the end of his 'reign' but she just continued staring ahead as the candlelight flickered over the walls. "You got plans or something?"

"No," Tay answered quietly as a distant expression came over her face. "I don't have any plans. Not anymore."

"Please tell me that you ain't still worked up about that shit," Spot scorned. Tay had been moping about the pregnancy for days and Spot had tried being patient but it had only lasted for about five minutes. Since that point Tay had been carefully avoiding him, only returning to the riverside when forced and Spot had had enough. The problem was he'd let his frustration get the better of him and he knew it.

"What do you want from me?" Tay asked as she flung his hand away from her in disgust. "You said stay in Brooklyn, I stayed. But that ain't good enough for you, is it? No matter what I do or don't do, it ain't enough for you. I wouldn't have ever even asked you for anything ever again if you had just let me…" Tay's voice broke and she turned her head away from Spot but he could tell she was crying. He let her be for the moment, unsure of what to do or say. Tay straightened her shoulders a bit as she looked at him. "I hate you." It was simple, direct and he was surprised by the lack of emotion as she said it. The hard truth of her statement brought him back to reality and he reacted badly.

"Keep telling yourself that, doll. Just remember that you was the one who waited for me that night. You could have stayed away, or tried to hide but you didn't. So face it, you made your own decision," Spot replied. Tay got to her feet and made sure to knock into him as aggressively as possible as she made her way to the door. "Where are you going?" Spot asked, following her but keeping just out of arm's reach in case she decided to take a swing at him. It wasn't her usual way of doing things but he wasn't sure what to expect at that point.

"Out. Away from you." Her voice was ice-cold and she already had one hand on the door, pushing it open when Spot reached out to stop her. He could feel her tense up at his touch and he knew the pained expression on her face had nothing to do with the hold he had on her arm. There was a long moment of silence as Tay studied his face and for the first time Spot was unsure about her feelings. Normally, he could read Tay better than anyone but there was something off about her and he had a feeling what he needed to do was keep her there by his side for as long as possible.

Spot tried to dismiss the look Tay gave him as she slipped her arm out of his grasp and walked out the door but it haunted him for the rest of the day. He thought briefly of following her but he'd already put his foot in his mouth once and he wasn't willing to take the chance of making things any worse than they already were. By the time he discovered his knife was missing it was almost too late. Spot was never able to forget the sight of Tay laying in a pool of blood as he entered their room that night. It turned out that Tay had finally managed to find a way to pay him back for everything he'd done to her.


End file.
